Kismet - Alternate Ending & Epilogue
by Miguel51
Summary: Exactly as it says in the title. Hope you like it. Spoilers for Kismet, so read that first, please and thank you.


**Kismet - Alternate Ending & Epilogue**

 _A/N- The following two sections are the alternate ending and its epilogue. Hope you enjoy._

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50 - Home

Marty stared down at his cellphone for what seemed like the millionth time since receiving the text, once again wondering if he was making the right choice. He clicked the touchscreen off then laid his cellphone on the table beside the half empty cup of coffee. His light brown-green eyed gaze was drawn out the diner window while the waitress came by to top off his cup before moving onto her other customers. After taking another sip from his now refilled mug of warm coffee, Marty collected his cellphone to read the message once more.

 _[At the Windsor Club. Hope to see you. -Rory]_

He frowned at her presumptuousness. It wasn't one of Rory's more attractive traits. Combine that with her naivety and tendency to be secretive, the girl of his dreams could be down right insufferable at times. Marty knew that many of her negative personality aspects were due to her sheltered upbringing though, so he really couldn't blame Rory too much for that.

With a resigned sigh Marty drained his coffee before motioning to the waitress for the cheque, clicking his cellphone off in the process. Moments later found him standing outside, his hands in his coat pockets, hazel-green eyes drawn to the large building across the street.

 _"And during this time apart, I want you to get in touch with Andy," Rory interrupted him, her words rushed like they'd become stuck if she didn't get them out right then. "Either get some closure," she continued, turning to face him with an earnest expression on her face. "Or get back with her." Rory reached over to lay a hand on his cheek. "Okay?"_

"One way or another, you're getting what you want, Rory," he muttered, the chill wind picking up as Marty crossed the street towards his destination. The architect pulled his wool coat closer to himself, barely making it across before the lights changed back. The wind would only get colder now that the sun was setting, despite the fact that spring had already begun its rainy descent on the Chicago area. As much as he had come to love it here, Marty wouldn't miss that bone chilling wind at all.

"Welcome to the Ramada Inn," the attendant at the front desk greeted when Marty entered the building. "How may I help you, sir?"

"Um, yes, would you happen to be able to tell me if there's an Andrea Walker staying here?" he asked, hoping against hope that his former fiance had already departed.

The attendant raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you Martin Harrison?"

"That'd be me, yes," nodded Marty.

"She mentioned you might stop by," the attendant smiled. "Please wait for Miss Walker in the lounge while I inform her that you've arrived."

Without another word Marty left the lobby to enter the nearby lounge, where he would await the woman who tore his heart out just a few short months ago. After taking a seat at the bar and ordering a beer for himself, he once again slipped his cellphone out to read Rory's text.

"Still haven't made up your mind yet, huh?"

"No, not really," Marty answered the blonde now standing in front of him.

"Will this help you any?" Andy inquired with a timid smile, left hand now held up to display her engagement ring. The engagement ring he'd bought her back in October.

He shook his head in disbelief at her audacity. "That's a dirty trick, Andy."

"I know," she admitted with a sigh, sliding onto the stool next to his own. "But dirty or not, I-I really don't know what else to do." Her piercing green eyes met Marty's as a soft smile landed on her lips. "But I am glad you showed up. I was worried that you were absolutely and completely finished with me, you know? Not that I could blame you."

"You hurt me pretty bad," he stated.

Andy dropped her gaze, too ashamed to meet his gaze any longer. "I know. And from now until the day I die, it'll be the biggest regret I ever have." She sniffled. "What I did to you was un-unforgivable, Martin. But if it takes me the rest of mah life, I'll make it up to you. Ah don't how, but-"

"You're not the only one who screwed things up, Andy," Marty cut in, gently reaching forward to lift her chin up so their gazes could meet. "I was the one who wanted a short engagement. I was the one who rushed things. Not everything that went wrong belongs on you. We both let things get out of control." He licked his lips before continuing. "So don't go trying to take all the blame, okay? Because there's plenty of it to go around."

"You're a good man, Martin Harrison," she complimented, reaching up to grasp his hand. "How could I have ever let you go?" Before Marty could even come up with a reply, Andy slinked forward to lay a long, languid kiss on his mouth. Of their own accord his lips kissed hers back while his arms slid forward to pull the musician against him. When their kiss finally ended the blonde leaned into Marty with her forehead pressed against his. "Does this mean what I think it does?"

He hesitated for a moment before slowly nodding. "Yes."

"You won't regret this, Marty," Andy promised, her fingers in his hair.

"I hate to interrupt but could you two lovebirds take that someplace more appropriate?" the bartender asked.

"What do you say, Martin? Take me home?" the blonde husked lowly.

"Yeah, sure," he nodded again, still surprised by how this was playing out. "Home."

"I just need to head upstairs for my stuff, check out and then we can go," she explained. "Wait here for me?"

"Yeah, I'll wait here," agreed Marty, his eyes drawn back to the bar top where he'd left his cellphone. Andy followed his gaze, then nodded in understanding.

"Do what you need to do, Martin," his former fiance whispered before laying a soft, lingering kiss on his lips. "I won't be long."

As Andy sauntered away to gather what possessions she'd brought from her hotel suite, Marty nervously grasped his cellphone up and ever so slowly searched his contact list for Rory's number. After hitting the call button he simply had to wait for her to answer. It didn't take Rory long to answer.

"Oh, thank God," she answered in a rush. "You have no idea how worried I was! I thought for sure that something bad happened to you!"

"I'm fine, Rory," he assured her with no small amount of guilt. "I'm jus-"

"That's a relief to hear, Marty," the reporter said in her usual rapid fire manner. "So when do you get here? Are you at the airport? Because I can come and get you if you want m-"

"I'm not in Hartford, Rory," he interrupted.

"You're not? Then why-" she began only to pause mid-sentence. "You're not coming, are you?"

 _Moment of truth,_ Marty thought, leaning forward against the counter. "No, I'm not."

"You're choosing her, aren't you?" Rory asked, her tone telling him that she already knew his answer.

He sighed. "Yes." Beat. "I'm sorry."

"Well, I guess there's nothing left to say, is there?" Rory continued in a shaky voice. "Goodbye, Martin Harrison."

"Goodbye, Lorelai Gilmore," Marty returned as the line went dead. He stared at his cellphone for another moment then rose from his chair to join Andy at the reception desk, his former fiance currently in the process of checking out. When he got there Marty took one of her bags from Andy, kissing her on the cheek while doing so. "Ready to go home?"

"Home sounds fantastic," Andy smiled up at him.

"Yes," Marty agreed, hoping that he'd made the right choice. "Yes, it does."

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Epilogue - Mrs. Huntzberger

"Damn it," an aggrivated Rory Huntzberger swore under her breath, the slight burning sensation of her husband's obscenely expensive scotch doing nothing to alleviate the memory of that morning's argument. It seemed that's how they started their days as of late. Didn't make them any less unpleasant. More often than not it was Rory who started their verbal battles, too. And it was always something inconsequential, like what they'd be having for dinner or if they'd be attending some party that the DAR (or some similiar organization) was holding. Usually though the married couple of almost eight years would let bygones be bygones and the matter was forgotten by the time they readied for bed.

But this morning's argument was different. Why? Because it was on the one subject Rory attempted to ignore at all costs, one Logan seemed more than willing to sweep aside in the favor of maintaining the status quo. Unfortunately, her husband had chosen today of all days to pick a fight about it. And all because her soon-to-be eight year old daughter had chosen to ask Mitchum Huntzberger, who'd stopped by for dinner the night before, an innocent question about Logan's hair color when he was younger.

"It was bound to happen eventually," she bitterly muttered to herself after taking another sip of scotch. With the exception of her stark blue eyes, the little brunette girl looked nothing at all like Logan. And even then her eye color was closer to Rory's than her step-father's. She had hoped that everybody would assume her daughter had gotten those thick dark locks and almost gangly limbs from Rory's side since the girl had inherited her azure gaze. Rory let out a defeated sigh, wishing she had more time to deal with this dilemma. No use wishing though. _The cat's about to be let out of bag. I just hope it doesn't claw all our eyes out in the process!_

"Mama? Are you in here?"

"Yeah, I'm right here, sweetie," Rory turned at the source of the timid voice, a sad smile playing on her lips. The girl looked and acted so much like her biological father sometimes that it hurt Rory's heart. "How are your birthday party plans coming along?"

"Grandma Shira won't let me invite Abby or Leah," the girl sniffled, her upper lip quivering. "She says they're under us."

"You mean beneath us, Winifred," corrected the former journalist. Despite her outward calm, Rory was fuming at the woman's audacity to dictate her child's celebration. "Don't worry, I'll talk to her. Abby and Leah will be there, okay?"

"Are Abby and Leah really beneath us?" Winifred whispered.

"No, honey, your cousins aren't beneath us," she assured her daughter, even if only one of the children in question were actually related to the girl. "In fact, I think they're some of the nicest kids I know. They take after their mothers after all."

Her daughter brightened at that. "Really? So Aunt Clara and Aunt Lane were nice when they were kids?"

"For the most part," smiled Rory. "Your uncles Zach and Jess on the other hand? Not so much." She ran her fingers through Winifred's curly hair before kissing the girl's forehead. "Now go call Leah and Abby, and tell them they'll be able to come." Her daughter grinned happily and turned to head out to do as her mother bid, who quickly added. "Oh, and don't forget to invite Milan, baby girl!"

Winifred came to a dead stop in the doorway, her slouching posture telling Rory that this wasn't something she wanted to do. "Do I have to?"

"Winifred."

Her daughter pouted. "But she's so mean!"

"If you want Abby and Leah there, you're going to have to invite Milan as well," she compromised, feeling sorry for Paris' only child. The little red-headed girl took after Paris in her demeanor, which meant that not many other children wanted to be around her.

"But Mom!"

"Look, how about this?" Rory added. "You can invite your uncle Billy, too. Milan seems to be less mean when he's around, right?"

"That's because she likes him," the little girl muttered.

Her mother smirked, already aware of this fact. "Take it or leave it, kiddo."

"I'll take it," she nodded before sprinting out of the library.

"And don't run in the house!" she laughed as the door swung shut. With her daughter now gone, Rory's earlier melancholy returned with a vengeance. Despite the momentary respite from her troubled thoughts, Rory was no closer to knowing how to handle the coming conversation with Logan once her husband returned home from work. She desperately hoped that he'd forgotten about their horrible fight that morning, but Rory knew this was wishful thinking on her part. _Maybe I can convince him to postpone it until after Fred's birthday party?_

With this thought Rory headed towards the nearest landline, intent on giving her mother-in-law a piece of her mind. Who knew if or when she'd get another opportunity?

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 **Yeah, neither of these chapters make Marty and Rory come off as very sympathetic but that's what I was going for.**

 **Anyhow, thanks again for reading and feel free to leave a review.**


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